It was Jane’s mother on the line to remind her of her father’s birthday and to invite her to a small party. Jane covered the mouthpiece and called Peter, “Pete! Pete, it’s Mum! Are you free next Monday? It’s Dad’s seventy-fifth and she’s having a little do! Pete?”

Peter brought the tray with the cartons of food and a bottle of wine. “Sounds OK,” he said.

Jane listened to her mother carrying on about her sister Pam’s pregnancy and pulled a face. “Pam’s got water retention!”

Already tucking in to the food, Peter gestured that it would get cold.

“Mum, I’ll have to go, we’re just having dinner. Yes! I’ll be there, and Peter . . . OK . . . Give Pop my love!” She put the phone down, “Dear God, don’t let me forget Dad’s birthday card, remind me to send it off.”

It was almost ten. They settled back to watch TV as they ate, but Jane had no sooner lifted the fork to her mouth than the phone rang again. She pushed the tray away.

“I’ll get it.”

Peter continued eating. He could hear excitement in Jane’s voice, then her laughter. At least it sounded like good news. She came back into the bedroom, beaming.

“Guess what, I’m going to be on TV!”

“What? I thought Opportunity Knocks was defunct?”

“Ho, ho! No, I’m going on Crime Night, the police program, and I will be the first female murder officer they’ve ever had on!”

“Oh, great! Finish your dinner, the crab and noodle’s good.”

Jane twirled around, suddenly no longer tired. “I pulled every string I could muster. Mind you, the Chief’s got to give the go-ahead, but he can’t refuse. I mean, to date we’ve got bugger all, but I know this’ll bring us something, I just know it. I’m gonna get that bastard . . .

“When is it?”

“The twenty-second, they need a while to organize the mock-up film, and I’ve got to put together all the evidence we can use . . . Oh, shit! It’s Dad’s birthday!”

“Well, maybe they can have it another day?”

“Don’t be stupid, the program goes out at the same time every week . . .”

Peter threw his fork down. “I didn’t mean the bloody TV program, I meant your Mum could change the party night!”

“Oh, sorry. It’ll be OK, I’ll just have to make a late entrance.”

“I’m not that dumb. Do you want to finish your dinner or not?”

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“Fine, then I’ll clear away.”

He snatched up the tray. As he passed her she put out a hand. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m not hungry.”

“That’s OK, suit yourself, you usually do!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s Saturday night, Jane. I thought that just for one night, just one, you wouldn’t be on the bloody phone!”